It's a Wonderful Life
by exbo
Summary: It is finally Christmas time in the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family. Oneshot. Rated T just to be safe.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or the characters or anything.

**A/N:** As I wrote this, I noticed I always wanted to write Alfred as "Alfried" or "Alfread"… Interesting…

Oh, um, I'm in my second year of taking French, and I don't know the language as well as I would like to… so, I apologize for any mistakes I make… heh heh…

Anyways, Christmas family oneshot of the Kirkland-Bonnefoy family, and I will admit, I did "lol" at certain parts of this fic…

Oh, this is part of my Christmas gift to my sister McKenzie. :-)

Many thanks to Yaoi Sakka who proofread this for me.

Well, enjoy!

~****~

_Only four more days until Christmas…_

The blonde Englishman shifted uncomfortably in his bed. Christmas was meant to be a time of generosity, family, and all that other gushy, heart-warming stuff. So why didn't it feel that way? This poor man was prowling this side and that side of town, hunting down the ridiculous number of gifts his two darling sons had asked for. Arthur (our unfortunate victim of the Christmas season) could remember that special year his sons were old enough to write their first letter to Santa. It had dawned on him, with only seconds to spare, that if the children tossed the illegibly written lists into the breeze, there would be no way of remembering what they wanted. So, like any good parent, he thought up a way to trick them.

"Now, boys, Father Christmas gave me a phone call the other day," he began, "and he said to make sure and write a second wish-list and give it to me, just in case he loses the first one. Or else, you'll both get a lump of coal in your stockings."

Naturally, this frightened the kiddies. Well… it put them in their place.

So Alfred, the eldest at the age of eight, and Matthew, the younger by two years, scribbled another list like their father warned.

Oh… all for the sake of merely tricking them again. But who could resist that bright, sparkly-eyed look a child gets when receiving a gift from, and signed by, Father Christmas? Well, Arthur could, but it was his "all too perfect" husband, Francis, who just had to have a daddy complex and "sustain the innocence and youth" of the little lads. Not that Arthur would want to corrupt the innocence of his children or anything… besides, the elder of the two was devil spawn already.

So, as to please his family, the Brit was on a wild goose chase for a so-called "Zhu Zhu Pet". Store clerk after store clerk sent him all over the godforsaken city looking for one of the damn things. Since Francis was busy catering for the prissy trophy wives' Christmas parties – making the money necessary for their own Christmas – he had little help in the job. To make matters worse, Alfred and Matthew had asked their fathers personally; a subtle way of saying the electric hamster was a gift they would _both_ like to receive from their _parents_, not Santa. Santa always got the easy stuff…

Everything had to be organized. Two gifts from each father, separate, five gifts from Santa (well, with all those elves…), and one gift – the most important one of all – the gift from both fathers to both sons. The ultimate present.

He had to find that damn Zhu Zhu Pet.

_Tomorrow will be a very hectic day, _Arthur thought as he gazed at the back of the head of his partner. Just barely making out the blond of the hair, he thought of how tomorrow would be Francis's last day of work – oh, how grateful he and the kids would be when the French native walked through that wooden door.

Imagining the scenario, the creak of the door, the sound and chillness of the outside air, the warm smile, open arms, Arthur almost fell asleep to the reverie. Until a long creak and light footsteps interrupted the peaceful thought. He did not move a muscle. He knew who it was…

The midnight-visitor tiptoed to Francis's side of the bed and silently, gently crawled on. The small form curled up under the sheets and snuggled next to the strong Frenchman. Arthur sat up and peered over. Twas little Matthew next to his father, his head resting against his chest. Arthur sighed, first from the cuteness, then from what he knew he had to do.

"Francis…" he nudged the man.

"Quoi?" he responded groggily.

"Look at your son…"

Francis chuckled a bit ruefully, then sat up and gently woke the child, "Matthieu, mon enfant," he whispered.

"Mmgh…" the child rubbed an eye.

"Why did you come to sleep in here?" Arthur figured Francis didn't want to play the bad-guy.

"I-I had a scary dream," Matthew said in that tiny, hesitant voice of his.

"Ne t'inquiète pas (Don't worry)…"

Arthur could sense when his husband went soft, and before he could say another word, "I told you to sleep with your brother if you became frightened. He has more space for you in his bed and probably wouldn't be bothered by the company… now go on…"

He could also sense his husband's disappointment.

Obeying his father's orders, the boy slid off the bed and walked silently out the room.

"Dors bien," his father called reassuringly.

The couple lay back down onto the bed.

"I don't like being the mean one…"

"Oh, non… if it weren't for you, our children would be spoiled…" Normally, his husband would argue at a moment like this, but with the next day being his last work day, he was in a good countenance.

"One of them already is…" the Englishman said with a sad grin.

"C'est vrai, c'est vrai…" came the weak laugh.

"Well, best we get some sleep, dear."

And with that, the couple rest in peace, as the nighttime hours flew by and the orange and yellow of the sunrise came to awaken them in the morning.

~****~

"Be sure and eat all of your food, boys… You know there are children starving in Africa who would love this food," ordered the British man.

The only response was the collective moans and groans.

_Aren't my pancakes good? Eh, kids these days…_

"We've got some things that need to be done," continued Arthur, "firstly, I have a few chores for you lads, and then we are going to make something special for you father for Christmas."

"How much longer is Papa gonna work?" asked Matthew.

"Well, today he will get back around six, and he has the rest of the month off… including the first couple of days of January. We should be thankful he's actually getting off this year…" The previous year, Francis was swamped with catering for the hungry suburban Christmas parties – he only had Christmas day work free! "Now finish your food so you can get a start on your chores – the sooner those are done, the sooner we can have fun."

"I'm gonna make something _really_ cool for Papa. He'll like mine more than yours, Mattie," said the boisterous eight-year-old.

"But… you don't even know what I'm gonna make…" the smaller said with a pout.

"Hee hee… we'll see…"

"With all that chatting, sounds like you boys don't want to finish those yummy pancakes I made," Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"Th-they're so good, Daddy, I just can't eat another bite…" Matthew said gazing at the jabbed at, syrup soaked pancake.

"Here, let me feed them to yoooouuu!" Alfred said grinning.

"Oh… don't make a mess!" scolded the scowling adult, "now go on and do your chores – here, take this list and mark each one off when you two are finished."

"Fine, Dad," said Alfred, receiving the list.

On the list was one thing: Clean your rooms. Together.

"Lets clean my room first, okay Mattie?"

"Alright…"

They walked into the moderately sized room, which looked more like a junkyard of toys.

"Now, Mattie, having a big bed is really nice, because of this," Alfred pushed a few of the toys under the double bed. He tried to wink, but his eyes just twitched.

"O-oh, alright."

The younger boy followed suit by pushing random toys under the bed.

"Yes, yes, that's right… hee hee…" Alfred grinned in his special mischievous way.

After more pushing, the floor looked spotless. They continued by straightening out the sheets on the bed and pulling down the bed skirts so the toys were not visible.

"Lets get your room done with now."

In Matthew's room, there wasn't as much clutter, but the bed was a twin, so they wouldn't be able to hide everything under it.

"Gee, Mattie, why do you have to have such a small bed?"

"It's not my fault!" Matthew whined.

"We'll just have to throw your toys in your toy chest… you know, it's harder that way," Alfred reprimanded.

"I'll put my toys up; can you make the bed? It'll be faster," Matthew suggested.

"Sure, whatever."

In no time, the room was passable and the tots set off to tell their father of their finished work. Arthur was finishing up his own chore, washing the dishes, when Alfred handed him the list, chiming in, "We finished."

Arthur looked at the paper skeptically, "You didn't cross it out."

"Look at our rooms."

"Alright…" Arthur dried off his hands and put away the remaining dishes. He walked to Matthew's room, the two kiddies following like little ducklings. He stood in the doorway and peered in, quickly looking over the floor and bed. He did the same for Alfred's room. He was feeling generous and decided not to do a full investigation.

"Lovely work, children," Arthur smiled.

"Yay! Now can we make gifts for Papa?" Alfred asked excitedly.

"Of course," the father said, crouching down, "what would you two like to make?"

"Uh, uh, uh… what are you gonna make, Mattie?"

Matthew put his hands together and smiled in that bashful kind of way, "A teddy bear!"

"Oh, your father would love that," Arthur smiled and put a hand on his son's shoulder, "and we have just the right things to make one! Now, what about you, Alfred?"

"Uh, uh… I'll make him a cup!"

"A cup? Like a mug you mean?" His husband was more of a wine drinker, but he wasn't prepared to explain that to his kids yet.

"Yah! Yah!"

"Well, we can make it from clay, and paint it!" Arthur enjoyed faking enthusiasm for his children. Well, he didn't want to come off as a scrooge. "Alright, shall we begin?"

Such bright smiles on such enthusiastic faces.

~****~

Arthur set the supplies on the table. On one side were the modeling clay and paints for Alfred, and on the other were buttons, needles, thread, and cloth. Arthur sat Alfred on the appropriate side, and Matthew on the other. The little ones were both very excited.

"Now, Matthew, here is what you need to do to begin. Pay close attention. First, fold that fabric in half. Then draw a bear on one of the sides with a marker. Then cut it out through both layers of fabric. Do you understand?"

Matthew nodded silently and smiled.

"Once you've done that, just tell me and I'll help you with the rest – right now I need to show your brother what to do."

"Okay, Daddy," Matthew silently set to work.

Arthur sat down next to Alfred and prepared himself. It was this one who he had to worry about…

"Here is the clay you are going to use to form the mug, alright?"

"This is gonna be fun!"

"Yes, I know, now first I'm going to get the clay a little wet so you can mold it into the shape you want." He wet his hands and put a few drops on the mound of clay placed on the plate. He picked up the mound and started bending the clay, warming it up for the smaller, weaker hands to use.

"Let me, let me!"

Arthur handed the ball over to his son, and continued explaining, "Your job is very simple – keep bending the clay until you think it is ready to form. Then simply mold it into a mug shape – you know what a mug looks like, right?"

"Yaaaahh!" Alfred replied with a pearly grin.

"Don't forget, it should be hollow!" Arthur reminded his son.

Alfred happily continued playing with the clay. It was a good thing he remembered to roll his sleeves up…

"Once the shape is the way you want it, tell me, and I will help you make the handle."

Alfred continued without a care.

That rather sunny disposition worried Arthur. Was his child _that_ carefree? Ah, twas a thought he best save for another day.

Within minutes, Matthew had cut out the teddy bear shape, perfectly as Arthur instructed. The head was very large, with two small ears placed with some thought atop the head. The body was rather small, with two arms a bit too short and two legs a bit too long. At this moment, Arthur realized the bear's face would be flat. Oh well, Francis wouldn't care.

"Perfect! Now draw where you would like the eyes to go."

Matthew drew two crooked eyes set wide enough to look rather odd.

"Alright… let me just sew these buttons on." Arthur picked up the half of fabric with eyes and sewed in the buttons to the side with marker marks. He was no seamstress, but sewing together a teddy bear would be easy enough, right?

Matthew watched carefully as he continued, "I am going to sew the head and one of the arms together, and then you can sew the rest – just be careful and don't prick yourself. It's actually quite easy. Oh, and leave a hole in its side so we can fill it with cotton," Arthur smiled at the child and quickly sewed his part together.

"Be sure and stay close to the edge like I'm doing," he added.

When he finished his part, he handed the limp shape to Matthew and watched as the child slowly followed suit. Although he was a bit unsteady, the task seemed doable.

"Be careful," warned Arthur.

He made his way to Alfred's side of the table to check out how he was doing.

"That's… an interesting shape," he forced a smile when he noticed the shape Alfred had formed. It was wide at the bottom like a mug should be, but the top gradually came in, giving it a pear shape. The hole at the top was just barely wide enough to drink out of.

"Here, how about I just, uh…" he awkwardly tried widening the top of the strange mug, but was interrupted by a blood-curdling noise.

"Noooooo!" A voice like that had the ability to frighten even the strongest of men.

Quickly, Arthur pulled his hands away.

Matthew looked up from his work.

"Dad! Don't ruin it! It took me forever to get it just right!" whimpered the eight-year-old.

"A-alright… if that's the way you want it," Arthur grinned weakly.

"And I already made the handle… and can put it on by myself," Alfred said a bit angrily.

The handle was small and round. The child attached it to the bottom of the mug. Now the mug looked even odder. Very, very odd.

"Okay! Now it's perfect," said with the usual countenance.

Arthur smiled weakly and set the oven, "Let's put it on an oven sheet now… Alfred, can you get the wax paper? It's in the cabinet."

He pulled out a cookie sheet, as Alfred dutifully brought over the wax paper. The Englishman tore out some of the smooth paper and placed it on top of the sheet, "Now bring over your, uh, mug."

Alfred placed the 'mug' on the wax paper and watched as his father slid it into the oven.

"Now we wait for it to get hard," Arthur said, then shifting his attention to Matthew, "Matthew, have you finished?"

"Yes, Daddy."

Arthur gently turned the skin of the bear inside out so that the sewed part appeared smooth on the outside. Peering up at him were the two black button eyes.

Alfred skipped over to take a look.

"Now you can fill it up with some of this cotton," Arthur smiled at his golden-child, "but be careful so that the thread doesn't get pulled out."

Matthew started silently filling the bear's form with the fluffy cotton.

"That bear is so weird looking."

Arthur and Matthew both turned their attention to Alfred, Matthew frowning with tears forming in the large violet eyes.

Arthur shooed Alfred away and quickly set to comforting his littlest son, "Don't cry, darling, that bear is the cutest bear I have ever seen, in all my life."

Matthew looked up and sniffled.

"I swear to it," Arthur said with a hand over his heart, "Alfred is just jealous…" he whispered.

Matthew smiled and wiped away a tear.

"Now finish stuffing your adorable bear," Arthur nudged him playfully.

So Matthew continued on until the bear was fully filled. Arthur sewed together the hole, a bit messily at that, but it would do. The bear's arms and legs stuck out quite stiffly, and it's face was flat… but Francis wouldn't mind. When he saw the handmade teddy bear, he would be ecstatic.

"Hm… our bear doesn't have a nose or mouth… would you like to draw one on, or do you want him to be mouthless and noseless?"

"I'll draw them on…" Matthew took his marker and shakily drew on the nose and mouth.

"Wow, that bear is even cuter now!" The two smiled.

Alfred walked in on the scene, "Daaaad… I'm bored! When will my cup be done?"

"Well, in an hour or so I would assume…"

"Ugh… what do I do til then?"

"How about you read a book?"

"No! That's sooo boring!"

While that conversation was going on, Matthew moved toward the paint set, and got out the red. He dipped a thin brush in and wrote "Papa" on the middle of the bear.

Alfred glanced over at Matthew, "I wanna play with paint, too!"

_Alright, problem solved, _Arthur thought.

Matthew quickly moved away and placed the bear on the countertop for the words to dry.

"Daddy, where's the paper?" Alfred asked.

"I'll go get it," Arthur said.

He came back with about ten sheets of printer paper for the kids to paint on.

The three sat around the table and played with the paint.

"Now, be careful… don't make a mess," Arthur told his kids.

~****~

At about two o'clock, the clay mug had hardened. Arthur took it out of the oven and let it dry for about thirty minutes. Alfred and Matthew were napping in Alfred's bed. They were almost done with their activities.

In a few minutes, Alfred walked into the kitchen, where Arthur was analyzing the mug and its lumpy, unsmooth form.

"How was your nap?"

Alfred rubbed an eye, "I wanna paint that now," he said with a hint of tiredness. He walked to the table and gathered the painting supplies. Then took the craft from his father and thought a moment.

"What color are you going to paint it?" Arthur asked.

"Mm… Papa's favorite colors, silly!"

"Paint the inside first… it's easier that way," Arthur said with a wink.

Arthur watched as his son used all of his focus painting the inside. Bet he regretted making it a pear shape now. Oh, but still, his son looked so cute. Squinted eyes, tongue sticking out in concentration, hunched over the little mug. Once the inside was finished, the child made quick work of the outside, blue as the base, white in the middle, and red at the top. On the front of the mug he wrote 'Papa' with blue and red paint.

"Perfect!" Alfred was no longer tired – he was full of vim and vigor.

"OK, leave it here to dry, and in a couple of hours we'll hide your father's presents."

"Okie dokie!" Alfred said with a big grin.

~****~

It was nearing six o'clock when Arthur was scrambling to clean up the remnants of the obvious craft party. He put the supplies away in the garage and gathered the kids.

"Where should we hide the gifts?" Arthur asked his kids, trying to get them involved.

"Papa's gonna be home soon! Papa's gonna be home soon!" Alfred yelled, running around the house like a wild child. Wait, no need for the simile – he _is_ a wild child!

"Alfred. Alfred! Calm down!"

The youngster stopped and looked up at his father, "Papa's gonna be home soon!"

He ran out of the room.

Arthur sighed and turned to Matthew, "Is there anywhere in particular you would like to hide the gifts?"

"I can hide them in my drawer…" the little one said blushing.

"Excellent!" Arthur picked up the bear and the mug and walked with his son into the child's bedroom. He gently placed the items into one of the drawers in the dresser.

"On Christmas Eve, when your father is making dinner, I'll wrap them and place them under the tree," he winked.

Matthew smiled in reply. Together, they walked to the living room.

The timing was perfect – the creak of the door, the sound and chillness of the outside air, the warm smile, open arms.

"I have returned!"

~****~

"Rah rah ah-ah-ah! Ro mah ro-mah-mah! Gaga ooh-la-la! Want your bad romance~" the Englishman sang with gusto as he walked by.

Francis was sitting on the couch with his two sons at the moment. Matthew frowned and gave his father a worried look. Francis just shrugged.

"Oh, that's a catchy song…" Arthur said smiling as he pulled off the head phones, "well, I'm off to run a few errands. I'll be back… later."

And with that he walked out the front door. Francis knew he was, of course, just looking for the Zhu Zhu Pet… but they couldn't very well let their kids know this. He looked to his right and saw his eldest son, Alfred, very intently pushing his pointer fingers together.

Hm. Must have inherited that from Arthur.

"So," he took the silence as an opportunity to say something, "what did the two of you do while I was away?"

"We made gifts for yooouuu!" Alfred said, out of his trance.

"C'est vrai?"

"It was Daddy's idea," Matthew added.

"Oh," Francis said nodding, "I suppose we should make something for him, then…"

"Yah, its fun!" Alfred chimed in.

"Come, mes enfants," Francis said, "I have an idea."

He walked over to the shelf and picked up the family's photo album.

~****~

It was later that evening when Arthur returned. As a matter fact, it was past suppertime. Francis had already even put the boys in the bath. The sounds of giggles and splashing faded into the background when he walked down the hallway to greet his husband at the door. The Englishman held a fairly large plastic bag in one hand and took off his coat grinning.

"Did you…" Francis said looking at the bag.

Arthur nodded quietly.

They both broke out in laughter and Francis seized his lover and kissed him passionately on the lips.

"Two weeks… it took me two weeks to find the damn thing!" Arthur laughed in his husband's chest. He smelt like children's shampoo.

"You are better than any wife," Francis said smiling.

Together, they walked into the master bedroom and hid the toy in the closet.

"On second thought…" Arthur said taking the toy off the shelf, "I might as well wrap it now."

"Do as you please," Francis said kissing him again, "I'm going to watch the kids… we don't want Alfred getting shampoo in his brother's eyes again."

~****~

"When I put this special concoction in your hair, Mattie, everyone is gonna be jealous!" Alfred said.

"Alfred, his hair has already been washed," Francis said walking in.

"Rawr. I'm a lion," Alfred said straight-faced.

Francis squinted then laughed, _"_Bien sûr." He let the boys play a bit longer in the bathtub but kept a watchful eye. Not in a creepy way – he had to make sure they didn't drown each other.

"Are you both done?"

"Yah, yah, lemme outta here," Alfred said excitedly.

Francis picked up a towel. First out came Matthew. Francis wrapped the towel over his shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. Next came Alfred. Francis did the same, wrapping the towel over his son's tiny shoulders and kissing him gently. "Go dry off, mes chéris."

Alfred and Matthew walked into the hallway.

"C'mon, let's be birds," Alfred suggested with a smile.

"Uh…" Matthew smiled in the worried sort of way.

Alfred spread out his arms still holding onto the upper corner of the towel, giving the illusion of having wings. Matthew blushed at seeing his brother so willing to be naked. Clearly, the child didn't mind running around the house naked.

"This way, we can dry off quicker," he zipped down the hallway flapping his 'wings' through the air, "Weeeee! It's so much fun," he called back to his brother as he ran – I mean – _flew_ away. Matthew felt a bit awkward – he didn't normally see his older brother in his birthday suit outside of the bathtub. He looked behind him and saw his father cleaning up the toys and draining the tub. He decided to go to his room and get dry the not-so-crazy way.

As he walked past, Arthur came out of his bedroom, having finished wrapping the gift, and noticed his son, "Be sure and get your hair dry," he reminded the child. Matthew smiled a bit awkwardly in response and walked into this bedroom.

Arthur walked into the living room to tidy up a bit when he came across his eldest son. He was caught a bit off guard by the bizarre sight. The child soared all over the living room, running over the couch, leaping over random items, flapping around the ends of the towel, and cawing like a bird, his willy out and free.

Arthur watched with a blank sort of look and spoke slowly, "What the bloody hell?"

Alfred then jumped atop the coffee table and ran over it.

"That's enough!" Arthur said, out of his trance, grabbing the child and wrapping the towel around him the proper way.

"No! No! I won't let you clip my wings!"

Arthur guided him down the hallway and pushed him into his room, "Just get dressed and ready for bed."

He closed the door and walked away shaking his head only to meet Francis coming out of the bathroom.

"Quoi?" asked the Frenchman unbeknownst.

"Our son is bonkers…"

~****~

"I can't believe tomorrow is already Christmas Eve…" sighed the Englishman.

"At least all of the shopping is done," commented his husband.

"Yes, well…"

Arthur looked at his two sons. They sat in front of the television set like two zombies.

"Don't sit so close to that – you'll fry your eyes out!" Arthur yelled at his kids.

They scooted back about one foot.

"Hm… how about we do something with the kids? Anything would be better than having them watch television…" suggested Francis with that smooth deep voice Arthur thought he could just melt in.

Arthur thought a moment. Matthew seemed to be getting bored, whereas Alfred looked brain dead. He agreed with his husband – it would be for the best.

He looked at his partner, "Lets decorate the tree."

"D'accord."

~****~

Francis pulled out the box of ornaments and decorations.

"We are going to decorate the tree this year, mes enfants," he told his children.

"Doesn't Père Noël normally do it?" asked Matthew.

"We're cutting him some slack this year," Arthur laughed and smiled at Francis.

"This way we can do it as une famille."

First, Arthur and Francis wrapped the red garland all around the tree. Then they wrapped around the gold lights, giving it that magic touch.

"Woah!" Alfred gawked at the tree, "Can we put some ornaments on it now?"

"Bien sûr," Francis said, smiling at his son.

So, as a family, they started decorating the tree with the magnitude of ornaments: swirly candy canes, red and green filler ornaments, and the quirky bad Christmas gift ornaments they had collected. The adults took care of the filler ornaments as the kids had less interest in the ball shape.

"Did I really look like that when I was a baby?" Alfred asked staring at an 'Alfred's First Christmas' ornament.

"Yes… you had a rather cone-shaped head, didn't you?" answered the British father.

Alfred frowned and put the ornament back in the box.

"Looks like it is all done," said Francis, "we just need to put the star on the top."

Francis pulled out the star and was about to stick it at the top when he felt a gentle tug at the end of his shirt.

"Can I put it on, Papa?" whispered Matthew, big eyes shining through his glasses.

Francis looked down and smiled, "C'est une bonne idée!" He placed the star in his son's little hands.

"Noooo!" interjected Alfred, "I wanna to do that!"

Arthur glared at his son.

_Oh, there always had to be drama._

"Matthew asked to first, Alfred," Arthur explained.

Matthew blushed and looked down at the star. Francis could see a bit of guilt in the boy's eyes and felt the undeniable urge to hug him.

"But, but I wanted to put the star on just as much as he did!"

Francis looked over at Arthur and shook his head signifying he didn't want any fights.

Arthur thought for a second, "Let's flip a coin; that will decide who puts the star on the tree."

"But – "

"No buts, Alfred," said Arthur. He took out a coin, "heads or tails?"

"Heads!" Alfred called out before Matthew could speak.

Arthur flipped the coin, "Its tails."

Alfred puffed and fumed jealously as Matthew smiled awkwardly. Francis smiled at his son who smiled in return. Then he picked him up and held up the light little boy to the top of the tree. Fumbling slightly, Matthew placed the gold star atop the tree, feeling a warm happiness pass through his system. When he was brought down his father hugged his small form and kissed his forehead.

Arthur sighed, smiling, wishing he had brought his camera.

~****~

Arthur smiled and looked down at his sons, "Father Christmas will be visiting our house tonight, so who wants to help me make cookies for him?"

The boys nodded happily, eager to make the treats.

_Oh non…_ thought the Frenchman, as he looked over sharply. He would have to eat those things!

"Mon amour, let me make the cookies," Francis suggested.

"Oh, don't be silly. You've made enough food this season – let me take care of it," insisted Arthur.

Francis felt trapped. He couldn't very well just say 'your food is horrible' to his husband now.

"If you insist…"

"Good!" Arthur smiled cheerily.

~****~

In the kitchen Arthur took out all the ingredients to make your typical sugar cookie.

"Matthew, would you set the oven to 180 degrees? And Alfred, why don't you, uh, grease a cookie sheet with some butter?"

"Okay!" the child nodded happily.

Arthur looked at the measurements for the ingredients listed in the cook book. He put the flour in a large bowl then decided to get the kids to do some measuring and mixing.

"Alfred, would you measure the sugar and put it in the bowl?"

"Yayay! Can I mix it in too?"

"Yes, you can. And Matthew, please crack those eggs into a separate bowel."

He figured the eggs would be cracked a bit messily but that didn't really matter. He took out the cookie cutter shapes, and sprinkles.

_This should be fun for them. _

He set them aside on the table, and then finished measuring everything else for the cookies.

"Now, throw the ingredients into the bowl," he told the kids.

The ingredients lay in the bowl completely unstirred. Arthur supposed it would be too difficult for his children so he started to mix the ingredients together himself.

"Can I stir, Dad?" Alfred asked.

"It's too tough," Arthur responded, struggling a bit to mix it all himself.

In a few moments the batter was stirred enough to look like actual cookie dough.

Alfred was about to put his hand in and sample some when –

"Don't do that!" Arthur slapped the hand away, "if you try some, you'll want to eat it _all_ raw! Besides, the raw egg isn't good for you."

"Awww… I only wanted a lil'…"

"Here, let's make them in shapes and decorate them," said Arthur.

He took the boys to the table and showed them how to use the cookie cutters. After they used almost all of the dough to cut out the shapes, they placed them on the two greased trays.

"Go ahead and put some sprinkles on them now."

Alfred messily threw on the sprinkles whereas Matthew actually sprinkled the sprinkles.

"They look quite lovely," Arthur said smiling and nodding at his work. Then he set the timer and popped the two trays into the hot oven.

~****~

Alfred and Matthew ran around the house in their traditional Christmas footie pajamas. Their shoes rest in front of the fireplace, their stockings hung on the end of their beds.

Arthur walked into the kitchen and took the cookies out of the oven.

_These look perfect, _he thought.

"Boys!" he called, "let's put out some cookies for Father Christmas!"

The two children came running in. Arthur took out a nice plate and set it out for the boys to pick which cookies they wanted to give to the Christmas spirit. Arthur took out the milk and filled about three quarters of a glass. He set the glass on a tray next to the cookies. There were six cookies neatly piled on the plate, each with its own design.

Arthur noticed Alfred eyeing the extra cookies with lust, "It's too late to eat all that sugar, Alfred. You can have some tomorrow."

Arthur carried the tray out to the side table next to the tree and placed it down, "Now get some shut eye boys. Father Christmas is on his way to our house right now."

Alfred jumped around excitedly and ran to his room with Matthew following.

"Matthew!" Arthur called out, "if you're going to sleep with you brother, put your stocking at the end of his bed, too!"

The eager children faded into the darkness of the hallway. Arthur smiled. What darling children he had.

~****~

It was later that night, nearing eleven o'clock, and Arthur and Francis had finished placing all the gifts under the tree. They each even remember to wrap the gifts their sons made secretly earlier that day.

"It's going to be a great Christmas," said Francis.

"Yes… now there is just one more thing to do," Arthur said motioning toward the tray of cookies and milk.

_Oh non… _Francis had been dreading this all night long.

"Let's eat the cookies, then we can go to bed," Arthur smiled.

"Alright…" Francis said weakly.

Arthur stopped, "Oh! I have to put away the extra cookies… we really did make too many… hm. You go ahead and eat as many as you like, dear, you deserve it. Just, leave one for me," Arthur said with a wink.

_Oh non, non, non…_

Arthur disappeared into the kitchen to clean up, leaving Francis alone in the living room. He walked slowly to the plate of cookies. Looking down at them, they appeared normal and looked pretty good. He picked one up. Hesitantly, he took a bite out of the cookie. The texture was normal… but the taste… it was horrible. _I know this revolting taste, _he thought gagging, _did he mistake the salt for sugar?!_

He quickly placed the cookie down. From a distance he could Arthur humming "Bad Romance" from the kitchen. How should he dispose of the evidence? He picked up the bitten cookie and four others. Quietly, he walked out the back door into the cold weather where the snow had fallen on the ground. He viciously crumbled up the cookies between his hands leaving only tiny white crumbs. In the night breeze he threw the crumbs into the sky. The nightmare was over… almost.

_Dammnit, _he thought. The accursed taste was still on his tongue. He walked into the house and gently closed the door behind him. Then he ran over to the tray picked up the glass of milk and chugged it like none other. Finally, it was over.

Arthur walked in as Francis wiped his mouth, "Wow, those must have been very good!"

"They were super," Francis said a bit weakly.

Arthur picked up the remaining cookie and took a bite. The taste hit him like cold water. _But he said they were good… well if Francis likes them, then they must be… _

"Well?" Francis asked as Arthur quickly put the cookie down, struggling to swallow the disaster in his mouth.

"It's not really my type of cookie…" he said looking down.

"Well, everything is ready for tomorrow… let's go to bed, shall we?" said Francis.

"Alright," Arthur said, turning out the overhead lights.

They walked down the hallway hand in hand.

"I think I'll… brush my teeth twice…"

~****~

"Papa! Daddy! Wake up, wake up, sillies!" shouted the exuberant eight year old, "It's Christmas!" He quickly ran out of the room, making sure to be as noisy as possible as he left.

The once sleeping adults moaned and sat up. Arthur rubbed his eyes while Francis yawned, "This will be a very hectic day…" With some difficulty, they slid out of the covers and stepped onto the floor, walking slowly and wobbly down the hallway into the living room, where Alfred and Matthew had brought in their stockings. They were already digging through all the gifts, picking out which ones were theirs.

As Alfred started hording together his gifts, Matthew carried two gift bags in hand and brought them over toward his fathers, "Here…" he said simply, shyly, handing his parents each a bag. Francis and Arthur smiled at their son, then at each other, accepting the gifts.

"Go open your presents now, Matthew," Arthur said, smiling sweetly.

The small child walked away, and began gathering his gifts, as well.

"Oh, look at the smiles on their little faces!" Arthur said with a warm, happy feeling in his heart.

Francis looked at his husband and smiled, nonchalantly putting his arm around him, "All of the stress and the work… this is the reward," he said in that coolly intellectual way that made Arthur fall in love with him again.

Arthur could hear the wrapping paper tearing off as Alfred and Matthew opened up their first gift.

Francis was right… for the adults, the days before Christmas would be some of the most difficult and uncomfortable times of their lives, but also the most rewarding for the little family and the upbringing of their children.

And the look on the children's face – when the thin paper was removed, the treasure unveiled and shining like a magical bar of gold held in the small hands – these were the moments he would remember the easiest.

"Just what I wanted!"

"It's perfect!"

The two adults, lovers of their children, lovers of each other, held their tiny gifts close and with a warm, loving grasp. At that moment, their thoughts were mutual.

It was worth it.

~****~

Merry, _belated_, Christmas!


End file.
